The Beast that Shouted I at the Heart of the World
by Oyashenron
Summary: Richard Malkin's prophecy may prove more true than Claire could ever have imagined, sinister machinations turn the wheels of the Incident, and an unstoppable superman rips free from chains that have endured for decades. Inspired by Jeff "Doc" Jensen.


The Beast that Shouted I at the Heart of the World

_September 22, 2004_

He waited. There was nothing more to do. Nothing else that could be done at this juncture. Not with the men and women at his command, nor with the vast power afforded to him by their predecessors.

So he waited. The cold concrete, like a hot Chernobyl, weighed down upon him. He'd expected to go insane down here, to lash out and sink his entire domain into oblivion, but he hadn't. He reasoned that he must have reached the limits of insanity already and was thus unable to continue further. A pity.

Then he felt it. The continuation. Something to be done. A mass of steel and flesh and flame tumbling from the sky at the moment of his guardian's failure. Their failure. _Dharma's failure. _

He would be bound no more. Chains could hold back the body, but not the mind, and Aaron of all people knew best that the spirit and mind were one.

_July 8, 1976_

The video played for what seemed like the thousandth time. Aaron stretched his fingers out, feeling the joints crack. His wrists were bleeding. Tight leather strapped them to the cool metal of the chair's arms. He craned his neck as much as he could while confined in the room and regarded the dark ceiling in a surge of suicidal loathing. _Why have you forsaken me?_

_July 9, 1976_

His thoughts were becoming incoherent now. A mess of himself and _THINK ABOUT YOUR LIFE_ them and his longing to go _GOD LOVES YOU AS HE LOVED JACOB_ home. Sometimes he'd almost drift off. He'd almost see the little fishing village. The clothes caked with the dirt of ages. He'd think of his family. His proud heritage. One of the originals. The natives. _WE ARE THE CAUSE OF OUR OWN SUFFERING. _But the lights and harsh sounds would snap him from his reverie back into his living hell.

_July 10, 1977_

He could almost see it now. The way of true dharma. Advancement. He'd cast off the petty worship of the island deity. The feelings of disdain for his captors. Sometimes the kind Asian man would bring him food. He found himself appreciating the messages in the video. This was the path to enlightenment. He heard the true message at last. _ONLY FOOLS ARE ENSLAVED BY TIME AND SPACE. _And then he saw into forever.

_July 11, 1977_

Pierre carried himself as if he were feeling serene as he watched the concrete pour over his prodigal test subject, but in his heart he carried the pain of knowing he'd been responsible for the ruining of the lives of two sons in the past few days. He would allow the "incident" to be thought of as a freak occurrence as a result of the dig. He would allow Radzinsky to seal himself up in this bleak little bunker as punishment for his hubris. He knew deep down that he was the coward Miles claimed him to be.

The immersion neared completion rapidly, covering up the dormant corpse of the arcane abomination Chang had inadvertently set loose on his colleagues. The hostile once known as Aaron was now simply another electromagnetic hazard to be sealed away.

The tapes would be destroyed. Nobody on the outside needed to know about this. There would be an uproar. Pierre sighed as the concrete reached Aaron's neck, now restraining him as tightly as the bonds in Room 23 ever did. _Scientists torture natives. Read all about it. _

And as the concrete covered Aaron's mouth, Pierre regarded him one last time before turning away, not feeling the now open eyes of his captive burning through him with rage. In 30 years he'd forgotten all about it.

_November 1, 2004_

He's been born now. The host. The way forward. Aaron allows his mind to slip loose of the coils of his entombed form and drift into that of the newborn child. He tethers his mind to her, building upon the synchronicity he'd simulated in the minds of her tribe.

Claire coos over him, cradling his tiny body and smiling as Kate holds her hand. She lets a small bit of fear seep through her ecstasy. Fear for the fate of her son. The poor island baby. Aaron thinks little more. He needs now to wait once again. To bide his time and manipulate and push until everything fell into it's right place.

The natives would help. Their fanatical devotion would remove the special boy from his way and ensure his future health in this new form.

Claire nuzzled him softly and the warper of realities smiled. _It's the dawn of a new day._


End file.
